Don't Stop Looking For Your Sunshine
by MehBoiJax
Summary: Without Fury's eye on him, Spider-Man takes every chance he gets to escape. As a danger to his own health, Peter Parker is unable to be left on his own. This proves to be trouble to Fury, especially since he is not a parent and needs to go on secret spy missions. So he does the only thing he can do: he leaves him for the Avengers to take care of. And, boy, they don't know what's
1. Don't Stop Looking for Your Sunshine

When Director Fury walks through the halls, eyes are casted down away from him. If an agent is in his way, they hurry and dolphin dive out of his way. He doesn't stomp, but his footsteps leave a big enough tremor to shake the stares off of him.

For those who don't know any better, they would stare. Who can blame them? Director Fury is one thing, but the scrawny kid glued to his side is another.

The two contrast each other when they walk. Fury is confident in his strides. Shuffled feet follow him.

If one ever visits the science lab, one has probably seen him around at one point. He never leaves the lab and never talks to anyone else. He has a name tag on his desk, one that reads "Parker."

So to see him out of the lab is a shocking sight. Even more so, it's slightly humorous how attached he is to the director.

Someone starts snickering suddenly, and Parker stopped in his tracks. He stared at the floor. Fury didn't stop walking. "Get back to work, agents," Fury growled, and the snickering stopped abruptly. "Come along, Parker." Reluctant feet picked up again.

Parker's knuckles are white from his tight grip on the brown files in his hand. He's cradling them to his chest when he follows Fury to the bay.

A bag is pushed into him. "Put this on," Fury ordered.

He tilted his head to the side but did so anyways. Fury walked to the edge. He looked back to Parker and made a gesture.

Then, without warning, Fury took a dive off of the helicarrier. Stunned, Peter jumped right behind him.

They neared the ground before no time, and Fury gracefully used his jet pack to pull to a stop. Parker, well, not so much. "Parker, use the parachute!"

He did no such thing. He crashed into Fury and tumbled.

"Get off of me," he snarled, pushing the teenager away. He scrambled to his feet, and Fury jumped up.

The kid raised his eyebrows suggestively, as if it say 'Hey, you could've moved out of my way, but you didn't.'

"Come on," he demanded, and Fury disappears into a building. He scrambled after him.

Parker's never been forced to go to the meetings. Fury was always fine with him just making files and documents. Today, however, Fury demanded that Peter tag along.

Now, Peter was hurting his neck, trying to stare at the tower in front of him.

"Hurry up," Fury said harshly. Peter nodded and trudged his feet. They entered through the door and carried on to the elevator.

Peter was flipping through his files nervously. He had checked and checked again to make sure they were perfect, as he always does. He was checking again for maybe the thousandth time when he noticed a yellow paper stuck to the back. He had started to read through it, but Fury stopped him. "Don't," he warned. The door opens. He shuts the files and carries forth.

Peter stopped in his tracks.

The Avengers are stood in front of him. Tony Stark is heading towards them, with a coffee cup in hand. "Fury, why are you here so early?" Tony groaned.

Fury swatted at him, and Peter handed the files. Tony accepted them. "Oh, okay," he mumbled, "But, seriously, why are you here? Where's the nice girl who usually drops files off?"

"Not here," Fury replied sharply.

Steve Rogers approached. He took the files from Tony.

"Here, take this," Fury said. Peter looked over, assuming he was handing him another file. Instead, Fury stepped behind him and pushed Peter forward. Then, Fury simply stepped back into the elevator and left.

Peter was quick to pound on the elevator, but it was too late. Fury had already left him behind.

He could feel the stares stabbing him in the back, digging into his skin. Hesitantly, he turned around to face an entire team just staring at him.

Steve's mouth opened to speak, but Peter was already off. He was opening a window to jump out of when Tony yelled, "We're on the seventieth floor!" Peter didn't stop. He was putting his other leg out the window when a man came up behind him, grabbed his leg, and yanked him back in.

"JARVIS, lock all the windows," Tony sighed. Peter was thrown on the couch by Sam Wilson, who still held a tight grip of him.

Hawkeye stood before him, squinting his eyes. He had a cell phone pulled up to his ear. "Fury is not picking up," he groaned.

Natasha held the yellow paper in her hands. "Read this," she said, pulling the others closer. Peter stood up to look at it, but Sam sat him back down.

Bruce's eyebrows furrowed together. Tony started laughing. "This is great," he said sarcastically. "You know what I wanna do while Fury goes and parties on some island? Babysit a kid," he snorted.

Peter scrunched his nose. "Who're you, anyways?" Stark continued. Peter shrunk in on himself. "The note didn't leave a name." At the mention of the note, Peter peeked up to catch a glimpse, but Tony snatched it away from him.

"You're mad," Natasha observed. "At Fury."

Peter looked up at her. He nodded. "Aren't we all?" Stark groaned. "Are you his son, or something?"

"Wow, Stark, cause you know they look so similar," Clint retorted.

Stark shrugged. "He could be adopted!"

"And Fury is the parenting type," Clint mused. "Kid, what'd you do?" When Peter didn't reply, he continued. "Did you try to kill someone?"

"Clint!" Steve hissed.

"Well, he's clearly not his son," Clint defended. "Think about it. What else would Fury be doing if he dropped him off here with a note that says, 'don't let him out of your sight.'"

He took a step back. "Yeah, okay, that's suspicious," Stark said. He stared at Peter for a moment. "And he hasn't said a word. Okaaay, enough of this, uh, hey, kid, I'm just going to put you in here for a bit."

To say Peter didn't put up a fight would be an understatement.

He's been thinking about this for a long time.

Peter's brain is a dangerous place, but he already knew that. It didn't take a mutated lizard monster to put two and two together. He knows he shouldn't do this. He knows sitting here, his head spinning, thinking.

It's been a long time. He revisits his thoughts sometimes, as most people do. Maybe it's a favorite daydream about showing off, maybe it's a story idea, or a photo idea. Peter's been thinking about the different ways to kill himself for a very long time.

His entire body is shaking. His feet are the only thing keeping him grounded on this bridge. There's a long drop before him, before he gets taken away by the water.

It's always been small in the back of his head. With everything that happened, it's just grown and grown over time.

He never did anything though. Not even after Ben, not after May, but now it's after Gwen and Harry. Now, Peter doesn't know what he's doing.

He figures he could keep it up for Spider-Man.

"Kid, go home. The Avengers have it handled," Iron Man had said.

"Your gig is petty theft," Hawkeye had called. "Go home before you get hurt."

Peter feels useless.

He tore himself out of bed every single day, even though his mind was screaming at him just to disappear without a care. He worked so hard to just live all for one reason: Spider-Man could help people.

He can't. Not anymore.

Those comments aren't new. People tell him he's just doing the police's job. And he was okay with that. He was okay with taking down small time criminals, if it meant he could keep people safe.

He thought he was helping. He really did.

Peter's playing a dangerous game now.

He wished he had some music playing.

Should he have written a note?

He ponders.

He doesn't have anyone to write to.

He doesn't know if the city will notice when Spider-Man is gone. He knows no one will notice Peter's gone.

Maybe the teachers won't call his name anymore. Maybe his desk will be kept empty. He knows. That empty desk, similar to the ones next to him.

He's laughing suddenly. It's loud and obnoxious when he hears it in his own ears. It's hysterical. He bunches over, his head off the bridge.

There are cars buzzing past him. Not a single one stops.

He doesn't realize he's crying until his vision is blurry.

Peter jumps.


	2. It's Not Okay, Isn't It

Chapter 2: It's not okay, isn't it?

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything

(Original story by fuglychan)

Tony Stark leaned back in his armchair with his arms lifted high over his head. He glanced over at his clock, which read 5:30 a.m, and that's basically morning, so he pushed himself up out of his seat and walked toward the elevator. The door slides open for him, and his first objective is to make himself some coffee.

He's about to order JARVIS to start up his coffee maker, when he spots a scrawny teenage boy in the kitchen. At first, Tony isn't surprised as the kid wouldn't come out and eat yesterday. Logically, nothing was wrong with the site. Except that, Peter had a knife in his hand, and his room was on lockdown.

Peter's pulling out the knife, but Tony is faster. The kid stops, shakes, and turned around to jump out of the way. Tony's gauntlet is already armed.

"Put it down," he ordered. "I just wanted some coffee."

The kid's face contorts into confusion but then drops the knife down in defeat. He kicks it away from him: a peace offering.

Tony doesn't get that. "Still never gave me a name." Tony is sliding on handcuffs to the boy, who, surprisingly, doesn't even put up a fight. Tony pushed him back into his room. "Also, how, exactly, did you escape?"

The kid shrugs. "Yeah, okay," Tony settled. He crossed his arms. "Stay here. I'm putting up some more locks, which is not a challenge, so don't go all rebellious hacker on me. Or, I'm going to sit the Hulk on you."

He sits on the bed and waits for him to leave. Tony doesn't take his eyes off of him until he exited the room. A heavy sigh escaped his lips and he slammed the door behind him.

Back pressed against the door, he grumbled something. "What was that about?"

Tony squealed upon the man in front of him. He hunched over, cradling his chest. "Don't do that to me, Rogers," he seethed. "Evil."

Steve smiled. "I woke up for my morning jog, and I heard a crash," he defended.

"That must've been the punk dropping a knife," he replied. "Superhearing. Hmm."

"He pulled out a knife on you?"

"Yup," he said, popping the 'p.'

Steve gestured towards the door. "I'm going to try talking to him."

"Good luck," Tony dismissed. "Have fun with a one-sided conversation." Tony walked off to go retrieve some coffee.

Steve knocked on the door. When it didn't open, he creaked the door open himself. Upon opening, the kid charged forward. Steve pushed him to the floor. He locked the door behind him.

"I wanted to talk," he said. The kid, sprawled out on the floor, gave a thumbs down. "Sit down." Peter is already on the floor.

"What were you doing with Fury?" he asked. "The note he left us didn't really explain much at all. Can you understand me? Or are you ignoring me?"

Peter reluctantly nodded. "What's your name?"

He motioned Peter to come close. Steve inched towards him. He took the handcuffs and undid them.

An alarm goes off. Steve pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrambled to turn it off. Peter held his hands out for it. He handed him over. "It keeps changing," he explained. "I finally got used to its old alarm, and now it's…"

Peter turned off the alarm, at least, but after he did that, he took off. Peter ran up to the door, which Steve thinks is useless because he locked it. But, then, the kid pulls his foot back and kicks it down.

Peter doesn't look behind him. He's sprinting down the hallway very loudly. He crawls on a doorframe and sticks to a high ceiling. He holds his breath.

Steve came running through the hallway. He checked two rooms in there, but he didn't bother to look up. He let a quiet, relieved sigh escape his lips.

Peter fished the phone out of his pocket and cursed at the password lock.

Captain America's phone. What could the password be?

He typed in 1776.

It opened.

Peter snorted.

He slid open the phone and opened the message app. He knew Fury's number by heart. He texted him rapidly.

He waited a while, and then he pulled the phone up to his ears and started to call him. He got no answer. He had started to dial him back when a "find my starkPhone" alert went off on his phone. He cursed and jumped to the ground.

He disabled the alert, and sprinted into the next room. He reached the elevator, but then a blur came crashing into him

"Got him," a voice announced, and Peter looked up to find Hawkeye sitting on top of him. He pulled the phone out of his hands, and Peter tried to bite him to get it back. Clint threw the phone to someone behind him. "Do you know how much I want to be asleep right now?"

Natasha caught it. She opened up the phone and slid to find what he had done. Peter left the message app open. "He was trying to contact Fury," she explained.

She scrolled through the texts. Sam peered over her shoulder. "'Fury,'" she read aloud. "Fury's name about twenty more times. 'Fury, come get me. I hate you so much. I hate it here. These people are insane.'" The texts go on for more, but Natasha stopped there.

"Aw, you miss Fury?" Clint teased from his spot on top of him.

Tony bit into an apple. "More like, he's more scared of us than Fury," he said around bites.

"But he does speak English," Steve said, walking in. He held out his hand for the phone, and Natasha slapped it into his hand.

Peter tried to push Clint off of him. "Clint, you're suffocating him," Nat said. "Lay off the donuts."

"Are you fatshaming me?" he hissed, defended.

She rolled her eyes. "Get off the kid," she demanded, and he did as told. Peter sat up.

"Look, kid, we just want to understand why you're here," Tony explained. "We're all confused, okay? So just do us a favor and--"

Peter walked up to Steve. He slipped his phone away, but Peter tapped his hand.

"If you wanted to text Fury, you could have just asked," Steve said, turning away.

Clint mounted the fridge. He snagged some brownies with him. "Not that it'd do any good," he said, and Peter froze.

"Fury's gone off the grid," Natasha explained. "After he dropped the kid off, he vanished."

Peter's vision blurred. His body had started to shake, and he turned away from the Avengers.

His fist viciously rubbed at his watery eyes.

"What do you mean 'he vanished'?" Tony asked.

Clint shrugged. "We dunno. He went missing." He looked down at Peter. "Uh, guys, he's crying."

Tony raised his hand. "I told you guys! It's Fury's son," he hissed.

"He's caucasian," Natasha said.

Tony shook his head. "He's adopted," he supplied.

"Tony, not this again," Steve sighed, pinching his nose. "Fury is not the fathering type."

Natasha brushed some hair out of her face. "If we want answers, we need Fury."

"Assemble the Avengers," Steve ordered, and JARVIS was on it right away.

"Except, someone needs to stay here with him," Clint said. "I volunteer. Nat, you play babysitter with me."

"Okay, we'll go after Fury. You three, stay with Munchkin."

The Avengers, with Sam, Natasha, and Clint excluded, were suited up on the quinjet. Tony was the first to board, and when he did there was already someone inside.

The pilot seat was turned around, with someone occupying it. He turned around slowly. Tony clapped his hands. "Great dramatic entrance, Fury," he applauded.

The Avengers entered behind him. "I've left him in your care as of now, so do not come looking for me," Fury said. "I didn't have time to explain that day, and right now, I don't have time for this either." He leaned in close. "Don't let him out of your sight."

"Could you at least tell us his name? Or, if he's a villain?"

Fury stood up. "Why don't you ask him yourself?"

In a flash, Fury left.

Tony's eyes twitched. "F...Fury," he mumbled. "He's mute."


	3. All Things Sweet

The thought of being alone with the dude who just tackled him to the ground does not sit well with Peter. When Peter started to scoot away, Clint started to make hand gestures. Peter tilted his head in confusion.

"Do you know ASL?" he asked. He made movements with his hands as he spoke. Peter shook his head. "Can I teach you some?" Clint went through a couple movements, and Peter started to pick up on them.

"'Cake,'" he explained, signing along with it. "Cake. I want cake." Clint scrambled off his feet and slid into a stool at the island. "Cake!" He hit his hand on the table. "Sam, make a cake."

"I need to hit the gym. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

"I'm good with kids," Clint defended.

"Not talking to you," Sam said, poking Peter in the shoulder. He left the room.

Natasha dropped a bunch of supplies on the counter. Peter slid into a stool on the island.

"Chocolate, vanilla, or strawberry?" Natasha asked.

"Chocolate!" Clint replied.

"No, not you. If you're not helping, you can't choose," Natasha said, turning to Peter. "You look like a vanilla boy."

Clint cringed. "Nat, choice of wording," he said, turning away. Natasha whacked the side of his head.

"Okay, vanilla cake," she said, assembling the contents. Natasha made a motion with her hands, and Peter climbed out of his seat to walk to the other side of the island.

Natasha emptied out the cake foundation. Peter picked up an egg and cracked it into the bowl. Natasha mixed it with inhuman efficiency, then they poured it into a pan. She opened the oven and slid it inside.

Aunt May, face satisfied from her work, clapped her hands together. She leaned over to the counter to snag the bag of chocolate chip. She tipped it over her mixing bowl, but she was shocked when only a couple chips fell out. She cast her head back in defeat. "Peter!" she roared.

Peter's head peeked up from behind the counter. Ben and Peter both shared a suspicious smear of chocolate by their mouths. "Boys," she snarled, slow and deadly. The two suffered under her menacing glare, until her face lightened up into a smile.

"I knew this would happen," she said, opening a grocery bag to pull out a new bag of chocolate chips. Peter and Ben grinned in victory, but Aunt May stuck her finger out. She pulled the chips away from them. "How are we going to make a chocolate chip cake if we don't have any chocolate chips?" She swatted Ben's hand.

Peter hadn't realized he'd zoned out until Natasha was staring at him. He blinked rapidly before shaking the memories out of his head. Natasha was frowning a bit.

The dishes on the table were all cleaned up and put away. Some new pans were put up where Natasha was fiddling with the toppings of the cake. She put some frosting into mini bowls, and she was about to add food coloring.

Peter must've looked like he was on the verge of tears. Because, yeah, he kind of is. It's dumb, really, and he hates himself for being such a baby at a time like this.

It's a minor thing. They didn't even bake cakes all that often. Just the thought of never being able to make a cake with his Aunt and Uncle sent him down a dark path.

Just yesterday had Peter tried to kill himself.

Now, he was making a cake with two of the Avengers.

He felt like laughing, but he hasn't laughed in a long while. He can't remember the last time he wasn't miserable.

It's what he deserves, though, or at least that's what Peter thinks as he kicks his feet.

There's loud pop. Natasha ripped open a bag of jumbo marshmallows. She held it out for Peter, who looked at it disapprovingly with his big, puppy dog eyes. When he didn't take one, she pulled it back to her. She glanced down at the bag, grabs two handfuls, and shoved it into her mouth gracefully before Peter could blink.

Peter stared a moment before breaking out into a smile. Natasha grinned around the marshmallows in her mouth and chewed them. "He's smiling," Clint observed. "Nat, you got the emo kid to smile!" Natasha threw a marshmallow at Clint, but he caught it in his mouth.

Natasha handed the bag of marshmallows to Peter, and he picked one out and took a tiny bite out of it.

Then, the oven dinged. Natasha pulled it out of the oven and set it down. Clint started to cut a piece, but Natasha pulled the kitchen knife out on him. "Clint," she hissed, and he backed away. "Frosting done?"

Peter passed over the bowls. He helped transport the blue frosting into a frosting bag.

Natasha, red bag in hand, started icing the cake. "There," she said, and Peter peeked over the cake. 'NATASHA' was written across the top of the cake. "In this house, we put our names on our food. If not, it gets stolen." She jabbed a thumb towards Clint, and Peter mustered up the smallest of smiles.

Clint noticed it, but this time he didn't say anything. "Now, you," Natasha prompted, and Peter started engraving his name in the cake. "Peter," Natasha read. "It's nice to meet you, Peter," she introduced. "My name is Natasha." Peter nodded.

He continued writing. In small parentheses at the bottom of the cake was the name 'CLINT' in tiny print.

Natasha and Peter started to decorate the cake more with little toppings and small decorations. At the end, Clint took a photo of the cake.

"You made the cake," Sam observed, walking in with a towel wrapped around his neck. He dabbed at the sweat beading his forehead.

"Actually, Peter and I did," Natasha corrected, and Sam's eyes widened.

"Peter? You got his name?" Sam asked. "Only Nat."

"Only Nat," chorused Clint.

Natasha cut a piece out of the cake and started to set it on a plate. She gave Peter the first bite. He hesitated before taking a bite off the fork. He chewed it, then broke off into a smile.

"He likes it," Clint noted. "Aw, itty bitty has a sweet tooth."

"You have a sweet tooth, too," Sam said. "Yours is less cute." His face wrinkled.

"Petey put my name on the cake, so I deserve to have some too," Clint whined, and Natasha rolled her eyes but passed him a plate.

Sam pointed towards his chin. "My name's not on there, but can I have a piece too?"

Peter nodded and handed him a plate.

Peter tapped Natasha on the shoulder. He started to make some gestures with his hand, but her face broke off into a grin. "Peter, you just flicked me off."

His face breaks off into a panic. She makes a similar gesture. "Is this what you meant?" Peter copies it and re creates it.

'Thank you,' he signed.

When Peter looks at the city, his mind runs wild.

His head is pushed against the glass.

Peter knows what he's doing, and he hates himself for it. He knows he needs to stop while he can.

He could escape. He could go back on that bridge. There's only the Avengers standing in his way.

Fury was all he had for a long time. Empty Fury, the man who isn't flowers and sunshine. Peter's only friend, that Fury.

Fury probably hates him. Peter's a smart kid. Fury only keeps him around because he's an asset, a potential to become an agent for him. It's only because he used to be Spider-Man before he jumped.

Now he's starting to smile again, and he's already finding it hard to detach. He thinks of May.

He sits back down.


	4. Baby, I'm Yours

Fury did spend a long time looking for him.

He tried tracers, spies, even using force to unmask the hero. None of it worked.

An especially careless mistake of his, one that Fury wouldn't tell, led him to a boy in a cemetery.

His agents told him with a small "Please, sir," not to go, but he did anyways. No one was fond of the idea, especially his scientists. All they thought of him was a smart kid who had gained Fury's interest. Nothing more than that.

He was much more than that.

There was rain pouring down on him — Peter had been there for hours, and it was obvious he hadn't planned to move anytime soon.

What he had thought Spider-Man, the very man who had escaped him so many times, to be — well, it wasn't what he saw. It wasn't a shaking teenager with tears streaming down his face. It wasn't a snotty-face. It wasn't a child.

Fury didn't say anything when he stepped up. At first, he wasn't sure if Peter had noticed he was there. Fury's fingers were reaching around a gun, one filled with tranquilizers, but the kid shot a web at it. He dropped the gun a few feet away from him. So, he had noticed him.

When Peter looked at him, Fury wasn't sure what he saw. Traces of hope, maybe, but overall, he saw big, sad eyes staring back at him.

"Spider-Man," Fury began with a tone, and Peter knew who he was. Peter's body tensed. "I'm with SHIELD. I know what has happened to you—"

"Then you should know to stay away," Peter mumbled while staggering to his feet. When he walked away — and Nick let him walk away — he shook in his step.

The next time Fury saw him, it wasn't so different. Peter's face was blank, no expression. His walk was wobbly, again.

He sitting on a bridge with his feet dangling over the ledge. Fury wouldn't let it go if it wasn't for the note in his hand.

His pen wasn't moving. No one to write to.

He sighed suddenly. He stands up and teeters over the edge.

Peter jumps.

Nothing slows down for him.

He's falling and falling, soon enough he's going to hit the water.

The cold air stops swirling around him, and he feels a warmth around him. When his eyes opened, he's in the arms of an unamused man.

"Spider-Man," the man said, dropping him to the ground. He's wearing a jet pack, and Peter's interest spiked. "I'll make you a deal: you come back and work with me."

Peter fell back. He shook his head. "I wasn't asking," he said.

He took Peter back with him that night. When they landed on the helicarrier, agents were buzzing around. Peter was handing off to Coulson.

"Peter Parker," he said, "you're going to like it here."

Coulson was told little about Peter. He figured the rest out on his own.

Peter was a bright kid. He worked in the labs without ever saying a word. But some things did go without saying. There was a way Peter's face lightened up just a little bit more when he saw Fury enter the room.

No one ever heard him say a word. He never seemed to meet anyone's eyes. Except for Fury. He was always the exception.

You could say Peter got attached to him during his stay. Cause, in all honesty, he totally did.

Living hurt just a little bit less when he was with Fury.

But, then, Fury cast him aside. Fury dropped him off in the Tower all alone in the world.

He liked Fury. He really did.

But Fury keeps secrets, and Fury is not touchy feely.

This was all part of his plan. His "Get-Rid-Of-Peter" plan.

Peter didn't like that plan, but he understands.

Fury was only a man in his way. In a way, Peter saw him as an enemy.

He saw himself as a threat, a danger, to those around him. That's why Fury, the one keeping him alive, is so much more dangerous.

Tony is the one that comes to him in the morning. There was shuffling, the sounds of objects being pushed into bags, and the quiet footsteps of one who is determined not to be caught.

A bag is being pushed onto him. Tony Stark is before him.

"Look, I don't think you're a bad kid," he said. "And I certainly don't think you belong here." He unlocks the door. "So you can go."

Peter slides the backpack on his back.

"I won't keep secrets for Fury."

Peter slipped out the door.

"Traitor!"

"Come down here and fight me!"

"No, it's a trap."

"Agents…"

Everyone fell short.

Fury had walked into the room.

Clint dropped the nerf bow behind him. "Not what it looks like," Clint mumbled. He jumped off of his perch.

Natasha went ahead and fired a nerf gun at Fury, who didn't bother to block it. He slowly looked down at the velcro dart and slowly picked it off and dropped it. "Toy gun battles aside, I'm here for Peter. I assume you've played along well?"

"Peter's still asleep," Steve said. "But he's had his ups and downs while here. Tony, didn't he pull a knife out on you?" Tony had just walked into the room and nodded.

"Really?" Fury asked, voice dry of amusement. "Doesn't sound like him."

"Interesting kid," Natasha mused. "You never did explain it to us."

"You'll be seeing more of him," Fury said. "Hopefully soon."

"What does that mean?" Clint sighed. "Fury, where did you get this kid? Please, explain to Tony that he is not your son."

Fury slowly turned to face him. "Really, Stark?" Tony shrugged.

"He could be adopted," is the only explanation Tony gave.

Fury took a seat at the island. "He's not my son," he explained. Sam slid him a piece of cake. "He's a smart kid. The same can't be said for his decisions."

Tony grinned. "What's a few parties to you?"

Fury challenged his gaze. "He tried to take his life."

Tony's grin was gone. "What?"

"That's how I found him," he said, which wasn't entirely true. "He's reckless, which is why I needed you to keep a close eye on him. I'll go get him."

Tony grabbed his arm. "Wait!"

He didn't turn around. "What?"

"We'll watch him a little bit more," he said. "I bet SHIELD is just waiting for you! Go on. We'll watch him."

He raised an eyebrow. "Stark, are you drunk?"

"No, no," he was quick to explain. "Definitely not. He's been fun. Good cook."

Tony pushed him into the elevator. "Bye!"

He turned around to face questioning Avengers.

"Guys… I messed up."

No kidding.

"Stark, start talking. Now, " Natasha growled, stepping closer. She grabbed ahold of his collar and tugged him close.

"I might've let him go," Tony replied in a rushed tone. "But just a few minutes ago. We could get him like that." He snapped his fingers.

"Suit up," Cap ordered.

"Oh, please," Stark said. "How far could he have gotten?"

Really far, apparently.

Who would have guessed it'd take the entire Avengers team to find one little boy?

They checked everywhere.

In the subways, in the streets, in the parks — every possible place he could be. They found nothing.

There was no trace all over New York.

Sam had landed on top of a building. Hawkeye was beside him. Tony Stark hovered in front of him. "Stay on the rooftops," he ordered. "Hold on. Hey! Spidey!"

A few feet away, Spider-Man turned around slowly. Tony made his way towards him. "Spidey, haven't seen you in a while. Are you doing anything right now?" He didn't wait for a response. "Can you keep an eye out for a kid? Brown hair, brown eyes. Quiet type." He pulled up a photo.

Spider-Man observed it, then nodded. "Kay, good," he said, boosting off.

Hawkeye kept on the rooftops while Falcon and Iron Man flew over the city. It was hard to see since it was night time, but Hawkeye made due.

Spider-Man inched nervously away from Hawkeye, then went on in a different direction than the Falcon.

Spider-Man ducked in an alleyway, and he ok off his mask. slipped his mask off. He looked to his right, then left. He let out a relieved sigh.

He started walking, in civilian clothes, towards a building he's been to before. The first times were just passing through. The last time had been for a fight.

The clock tower where Gwen Stacy lost her life is what stood before Peter.

Well. He never thought he'd see this place again.


	5. Stop the World I'm Done

Peter hadn't been here since her fall.

He'd visited it in his nightmares but never had his feet actually stepped back inside.

It was too painful for him. The guilt would overwhelm him, but then again — when did it not? Her mere name ate away at everything he was composed of: Faith, hope, his outstanding morals.

Truth, Justice, the American way. It just wasn't him anymore.

This is doing the world justice.

His heart was heavy, and it only grew heavier with every step he took.

His feet are wobbly. He's here again, here where he stands to jump.

He's thinking of a cake.

There's a cake sitting in the fridge of a place where he knows he doesn't belong. There's a cake in a place where he knows he can never return to. He knows he shouldn't think about it.

He thinks about it anyways.

Maybe he can't go back to it. Maybe he can't make that cake ever again. Even so, it's okay. Because this is his decision, and he's wanted this for a long time.

This was what he wanted. Right?

He had worked so hard. All the times he had escaped from Fury — all those times were for this, this right here. And, yet, Peter didn't want to jump.

All for some stupid cake.

"You don't have to do this."

Peter's Spidey Sense tells him. He ignores it.

"We can talk about it."

He doesn't want to.

"Peter, I know it hurts."

He has to.

"I know it's been hard for you."

He had no other choice.

"But this won't fix anything."

For Gwen.

"You may blame yourself, but revenge is worth nothing!"

For May.

"Especially if you're dead."

For Ben.

"Peter!"

He knows he shouldn't.

He knows he shouldn't.

He's betraying himself. His words, everything Sam is telling him. All of it.

He's falling for it.

He shook his head.

"Peter, Fury is waiting for you. Everyone is out there, searching for you."

Peter turns then. "It's not your fault. And, I know, whatever you're blaming yourself for — it wasn't you. I can see it in your eyes."

"He's right," a new voice said. Captain America arrived at the scene. "I know a good man when I see one."

"Man? He's still a boy," Clint said, dropping in on a ride from Hawkeye.

"I have no doubt he'd grow into a great one," Natasha said.

Peter didn't step away from the ledge.

"Peter, don't do this."

Peter raised his hands.

All of their eyes were on him. Waiting. Expecting.

Black Widow was in a stance, ready to grab him.

He turned to face them. His mouth opened, but no words came out. "F…" His fist clenched. He couldn't say anything more.

'Thank you. Cake,' he signed, which was supposed to mean "thank you for cake." He had to improvise by holding up four fingers.

He turned. And he jumped.

When someone grabbed him, he twisted around to punch them. Black Widow held a tight grip on his wrist and threw him over her shoulder. His body went flying until someone else caught him in a tight grip. He was hoisted over the metal man's shoulder.

His clenched fist came down to hit him, but his rapid fire punches fell weak against his armor. He wasn't holding back — secret identity aside.

"Not today, kid," his captor said. "Not like this."

Nick Fury was there when he got back. Peter arrived in the arms of Tony, and he wasn't put down until Coulson came up front. The Avengers cornered him in case he ran off again. But he wouldn't. He was too tired.

Coulson latched a necklace around his neck. It was a brace, much less of a necklace. Coulson held a key of sorts in hand. He gave one to Tony. "This'll keep him from running," he explained.

"It won't hurt him," Fury said. "But he will go unconscious, and you will be notified if he gets too far away. It doubles as a tracking device." Phil clicked a button on Tony's remote and it went invisible.

Peter was sat down on the couch while the "grown ups could talk." Natasha stayed with him.

"You can fill me in later," she said. "Or, Peter can." They nodded and left for a conference room. Natasha had Peter sitting close to her.

"Peter, how old are you?" Her voice was gentle. Trusting.

He held up a one. And then a five. "Fifteen?" He nodded. "You're young, and you're hurt. I know; I've been there. You're in a Tower full of people who's been there."

Natasha handed him a notepad and a pen. He scribbled madly. "Still there," he wrote.

"You won't always," she said. "You may go back sometimes, but never always."

Peter's eyes were wet for the first time that night. "Fury could've handed you off to any agent, but he gave you to us. Fury gave you to be trusted with the Avengers." Peter wrote a question mark. "He wanted you to be safe."

"But why?" She asked, leaning back. "Why did you…?" His pencil had already started moving.

He wrote for a long time. He'd finish a paragraph, and then he'd scratch it all out. He couldn't decide on his answer. Finally, briefly, he wrote, "I'm cursed. I hurt people."

"Did you shoot someone you loved?"

He shook his head madly. "Did you poison them?" He wrote "no."

"Did you kill them?"

"No," he wrote again.

"Then it's not you," she said. "It's not you."

"I had kept an eye on Peter for a long time," Fury said. Phil, Clint, Sam, Bruce, Steve, and Tony were all seated around the table. Fury displayed photos on the screen. "For a different reason."

Phil shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Oh?" Clint prompted.

"Peter qualified for the Avengers initiative."

Tony choked on his coffee. "I'm sorry. I think my lack of sleep is getting to me." He laughed nervously. "Could you, uh, run that by me again?"

"I said what I said," Fury said. "You might know him, Stark. I realize you've met up a couple times with his alter ego." He pulled up a photo. "Ring any bells?" A picture of Spider-Man carrying a fireman out of a burning building was depicted.

"No," Sam snorted. "No way. You're telling me that Bambi in the hallway is Spider-Man?"

"Yes," Phil said simply. "Though, we got to him too late. By then, he'd already lost everything. Now, we're trying to get him a chance to… rebuild."

"And you think he's going to rebuild here?" Steve asked, face tense. "What exactly has he lost?"

First it was Ben. Everything started with Ben. After that, things spiraled out of his control. Then it was Harry, then it was Gwen. Then it was May.

And, now, it's just Peter. Alone in the world.

A scary thing for a fifteen year old.

Tony pushed his face into his hands. "He did mention a girl once," he said, mostly to himself. Just to fill the silence in the room. "He mentioned a girl he couldn't save." He wiped at his face. "But that was a long time ago."

Fury stood up. "I would like Peter to join your team one day," he said, "For now, I'm going to take him back with me."

Coulson shoved some files into his satchel. He stood up after Fury. "You'll be seeing more of him," he said. "That's a promise." And when they left, no one in the room moved. The group sat in silence in front of the picture of a bloodied, beaten up boy.

Natasha stayed with him, even when Fury tapped his foot. "Come on, Parker," he urged. "Let's get you back."

He looked up sharply and shook his head. "Go, Peter," Natasha said. "I'll see you soon." He was hesitant, but his arm was already grabbed and tugged out by Coulson.

The brace key was already back in his hands. He kept one with the Avengers, but he disabled it for the moment. Fury wanted to keep his distance from the others.

"Why?" Phil asked. "Locking him in his room? By himself? After all he's been through?" He cornered Fury. "Do you really think he should be alone right now?"

Fury grimaced. "You know why," he spat grimly. "If he gets close to them and something goes wrong, he will break. There will be nothing left to stitch back up."

"And so you think this is any better for him?"

Fury set the key in front of Peter's cell. "This is all we can do for him. For now."

Peter didn't get better after that. In fact, things went drastically downhill after that night.

He stopped going out as Spider-Man. It wasn't his choice. Phil had thought it was the best for him. There was no way he could keep an eye out on him way out there. And if there was, it'd be too much trouble than its worth.

So Peter stayed in his room. He felt even more useless like that. But what could he do?

A doctor would visit occasionally. She'd check over him for minor things, give him some pills. They didn't work.

A couple weeks later Peter's outside of his room. His life seemed to turn back to the way it used to. Except, he knows it hasn't. He may still be the same boy, but somehow he thinks he's even worse than he used to be.

"You were gone for a while," a scientist commented. Her desk is just a few feet away, and sometimes Peter hears her gossiping to her friend Jared. Peter doesn't like her much. "Have something to do with the marks on your arms?"

Peter slid his sleeves down despite the burning heat in the room. "Fury won't say a word," Jared said, and Peter wanted to gag. "He hasn't said a word." He turned to Emilia. "Has he told you anything?"

"No, Jared, he has not," she responded. "You know what? He hasn't told us anything since this mutt arrived. One day, Fury drags in a raggedy kid genius?"

"Listen, kid," and Peter never hated being called 'kid' more. "Get out of here, if you know what's good for you."

Peter didn't budge. "Emilia, leave him alone. Tease him too much, and he might actually kill himself," Jared laughed.

"Why not? I thought that's what we wanted," she purred, but a fist suddenly pulled up to her face. She was grabbed by the collar.

"Shut the Hell up," Natasha growled, and she leaned in close to whisper something in Emilia's ear. Her eyes widened before Natasha dropped her to the ground. The two scientists scampered away. "Hey, Peter." He waved.

"How was I supposed to know weird, mute kid was friends with the Black Widow! " Emilia hissed as they walked off.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "How have you been?" Peter gave a thumbs up. "Fury wants you to meet him in conference room E."

Whether or not it's a curse or a blessing, SHIELD has great technology. The clear collar on his neck allows him to roam freely in the helicarrier, cut back a few feet from the landing deck.

He'd tested it before. Originally, he had access everywhere, but that was before he decided to jump off the ledge and pass out.

Conference room E wasn't a problem for him. Besides, Natasha was right with him.

When he entered the room, everyone stared at him. Maybe he should've been used to it by now, but he wasn't.

"Hey, Parker, take a seat," Fury greeted when he walked in. Fury went back to what he was saying before he walked in. "There's been a change in your living arrangements. I'm moving you to the Tower."

He shook his head. Clint passed him a notepad and a pen. He scribbled a huge question mark. "Part of your rehabilitation."

"And you'll work for me now!" Tony piped up. "My intern, and our new science bro."

He wrote down "No, thanks." Fury tested his glare.

"Except it's not up to you," he said. "You're not improving here. This is a facility full of spies, not a home for troubled teens."

Steve gave a sad smile. "We'll train you, too. Soon enough, you could go on missions again. If you cooperate."

Yeah. Peter could do that.


	6. Snap Out of It

Peter couldn't do this.

This was a mess.

When he returned, too much was asked of him. Natasha clashed with the others about it, but the pressure wouldn't stop. Maybe she was just trying to steal Peter for herself — he had no clue, but still, this was awful.

Sometimes he didn't want to move. When he woke up, he didn't get out until he had to. He moved sluggishly.

Although gentle, the team's pushes were anything but subtle. Pushes to eat, to train, to socialize, to do anything at all. Sometimes it was too much for him.

Steve took a seat on his bed. He leaned over and tapped Peter on the shoulder. He sat up in a flurry and grabbed his wrist tightly. "It's me, son," he said gently. "I brought food."

He set a plate down on his nightstand table. Peter swung his feet over the bed. A large muffin was in front of him. He didn't think he could eat it all.

Steve was patient. Peter never understood why.

"I live with Tony," he explained. "He never sleeps, never eats. You're easier, though. You try ."

Peter raised an eyebrow. "He's got anxiety problems, like you."

Peter picks up the muffin and takes a small bite.

Steve started to laugh. "You know, Bruce is down there right now. I don't think Tony ever slept last night."

He took a sip of his smoothie. Peter takes another bite of his muffin, and Steve realizes he's done. He smiled when he saw more than half was gone.

Peter pushed himself out of the bed. His legs were shaky, and he felt groggy. Steve stood up and waved a goodbye, taking the plate with him.

What his mirror showed him was not pleasant. His face was gray with large eye bags, his hair was greasy, and he reeked. He blew out a large puff of air and climbed into the shower.

He felt better after words, even though just a little. His skin was red from the heat, and his fingers were pruny.

Pulling a clean shirt over his head felt even better. He wore a blank tank and sweat pants.

He ran into Bruce on his way up from the lab. He carried a plate in hand. "Mission failed," he sighed, setting it down on the island.

Sam twirled around. "What? I cooked his favorite," he pouted.

"He was busy ," he said with an eye roll. He noticed Peter and gave a wave. Peter pointed to the plate. "Oh, that? That was Tony's." Peter continued to stare at it. "You want it?"

Peter nodded and took the plate. He grabbed it and headed towards the lab.

Tony was indeed very busy. He had safety goggles pulled over his face, a courtesy of Bruce. He was in the center of a mess of scattered parts and paper balls.

Tony didn't look over at Peter's entrance. His footsteps were silent under the blasting music of Metallica. It wasn't until Peter bumped into a cart did Tony say something.

"Bruce, stop overriding JARVIS's protocols," he grumbled. "Seriously, shoo." Peter set down the plate. The music got quieter. "I don't want it."

Peter crossed his arms. He stomped his foot loudly. Tony rolled his head back. "Bruce, could you—" His mouth shut when he saw Peter. "Oh, hey." He nodded.

His mouth was gaping. Tony had set protocols for everyone to stay out. Peter being the exception.

He hadn't left his room in days, and Tony didn't want to be a part of that.

"Bruce set you up to this?" Tony asked, but he knew he didn't. Peter shook his head. He pushed the plate closer to Tony.

Tony sighed. He stood up and ripped the goggles off of his head and tossed them a few feet away. He sat down and picked up his fork. Peter gave a thumbs up. "I'll make you a deal," Tony said. "I'll eat this" — he cocked his head towards the plate — "If you, do me a big favor." He was grinning.

Peter looked hesitant. He promoted him to continue. "You have to help me," he said, leaning in closer. "I'm pulling a prank on Capsicle. You want in?"

Whether or not he wanted to, he was involved and there wasn't anything he could do about it.

Tony's plan was the one of a petty, highschool girl who wanted revenge on the preppies: putting blue hair dye in his shampoo.

It was easy for Peter with the web crawling and all.

Maybe it wasn't worth it, maybe Tony was being super petty. And Steve was outraged, don't let his expression tell you any different. It's just when he walked out, fuming, face red with anger — he was met with a wide grin on a face of someone where smiles were seldom. And it felt good.

It felt really good.

Making Peter smile is a drug, and everyone who lives in the Tower is basically high off of it. All the time. A rarity, it was.

It was on one of Peter's better days, one where he woke up almost without a problem, one of his "okay" days, which are the best he gets now. The team had went for a swim after a training session, one which Peter involved himself in. He sat idle on the seat.

Clint dropped down with a water gun in hand. "Better watch out now, nerds," he called out, spraying wildly. Natasha was armed in an instant. She ducked behind a table. "Nat, team up with me!"

Steve hissed, dropping his drink. "Hey! We're unarmed," he yelped, but Clint had no mercy. He inched closer to Sam, who was left behind in the mess.

"Clint, no," Sam pleaded.

"Clint, yes," he menaced. He stepped closer, and Sam retreated. It took a step backwards without taking his eyes off Clint. Except, his foot never touched the ground. Sam tumbled backwards into the pool.

Natasha came out from behind the table to laugh at Sam, who had scrambled for the stairs. He was shivering. "Clint!"

Then, there was this loud cackling ringing out through the pool. "Please don't tell me it's a red alert," Clint sighed, dropping his gun.

Tony was grinning. "No, no," he said, shaking his head. "Not a villain. Look." He grabbed his head and moved it towards Peter.

Peter was hunched over in his chair. His hands had flown up to cover his mouth, but he had stopped when his sides hurt from laughing so hard.

Sam pulled himself out of the pool. "Yeah?" he teased. "Think that's funny, punk?" He scooped Peter off of his chair.

Peter let out a loud, playful scream. Sam took his victim and jumped into the pool.

Bruce set his book down. The two didn't resurface.

Natasha was about to dive in until Sam breached the water with Peter up on his shoulders. He was still laughing loudly.

"Peter," she said fondly.

He looked up and waved.

She reached down to grab Clint's water gun. She chucked it to Peter, who, in an attempt to catch it, threw himself off of Sam's shoulders.

Tony had jumped in the pool. Peter sprayed him in the face.

"Don't shoot your boss," he hissed in fake offense. "Rude." He put a hand over his arc reactor.

Peter stuck his tongue out.

Bruce and Steve sat back at the table. "This may not last for long," Bruce warned. "Go in while you can."

Steve set his drink down on the table. "Only if you do too."

Bruce pondered. "Maybe not," he said, glancing down at his book. He flipped the page.

Steve gestured towards the pool. "Bruce, I—" Steve started, but a stream of water sprayed Bruce right in the face. "Bruce!"

Peter was gaping. He playfully hit Tony, who still held the gun pointed at Bruce. "What?" Tony shrugged.

He put his hands together and cupped them to make "book."

In revenge for the endangerment of Bruce's book, Peter sprayed water in his face.

Bruce was turning green. Very, very green. Steve's face was stern when he completely transformed.

"Hulk," Natasha said, but the Hulk had took off and jumped in the pool. Water scattered all over Tony's deck.

So, you see, Peter had some good days. Peter had a lot of those.

Peter's healing was gradual over time, but it didn't start at first. At first, Peter wasn't getting any better.

Before his first laughter was Ben's birthday.

Ben's birthday was a day he spent with his family. Last year, Gwen even went with him. They'd eaten cake in a cemetery.

This year, Peter didn't get out of bed.

"It's one of those days, huh?" Sam asked when Steve arrived with the plate still in hand. He nodded. "He's been doing good lately." Steve hummed, thinking.

His phone started to ring. "Fury?" he answered. Sam mouthed "Mission?" while he spoke.

"It's his Uncle's birthday today. I don't believe he'd ask you to take him, not that he could. It's his first year alone," Fury said. "I'll send you the address. Just thought you'd know."

"You actually like the kid, don't you?" Steve teased. "Well, what do you say about coming over later? For Peter?"

Fury was silent. "Maybe I will," he said. "If I finish my super spy business."

"Fury?"

"Inside joke," he dismissed. He hung up.

Fury did end up coming later. How could he not?

He was met with this large, fluffball of sadness. He had cake smeared over his face. "Peter," he scoffed, motioning at his face. "You got a little something."

Peter cocked his head in confusion. "Right there," he justified, but Peter wasn't getting it.

He looked right and left, but all the Avengers were occupied. He grabbed a handkerchief and wiped at his face real quick. A camera flash went off.

Natasha had a camera in her hands. "Aw, Fury," she purred.

Peter threw a bottle at Nat, who caught it in her hand. "Nice try, but this one is going in the album." Her grin widened. "Fury, you haven't seen the album."

Peter had gotten off the couch. Natasha pulled an album out from under the table, and Peter was trying to steal it from her grip. She handed it to Fury, who held it high over his head where Peter couldn't get it.

Clint sat on top of Peter so he couldn't move. Fury flipped through the photos.

All the photos were of Peter. In almost 75% of them, Peter was asleep.

Peter crossed his arms over his chest.

Going out was nice. Peter wanted to stay inside, but when he helped someone else again he felt a lot better. He went out with the Avengers, even on his patrol. Sam or Tony usually went with him, since they're the most mobile of the team.

Today, the entire team was out. It wasn't Peter's fight, but he was roped along into it.

He was handling himself well. His training had left him more capable of fighting than ever before.

He sent a robot alien flying into the wall. His foot was kicked up high in the air to send another one to his other friend in the wall.

Clint was panting. "Whoo," he cheered sarcastically. "How many times has New York been attacked this week?"

Peter started to smile under his mask. Clint was firing arrows left and right. They were back to back.

"I need higher ground," he announced. "Sam, Tony, if one of you wanna give me a ride…"

Peter charged forward to punch one, but he was outnumbered. He was brought to the ground by a dogpile.

He twisted around, but he was cornered.

Clint was busy with firing arrows, and the rest of his team was far away. Nobody saw him go down.

He kicked one off of him, but the robots just kept coming.

He was shaking. "C…" His chest hitched. Anxiety swirled in his chest. "Cl… Clin…"

"CLINT!"

Clint fired his last arrow and spun on his heels.

He frowned at his empty quiver, and he took off. He kicked them off of Peter to where he was able to move and punch some off himself.

"Was that… Peter?" Sam asked in the communicator. "Peter?"

When the fight was done, Peter was engulfed in a tight hug. He yelped around Clint. "I'm his favorite," he said. "Yup. His first word was my name. Suck it, Nat."

"Oh, please, you were just the closest," Natasha said with an eye roll.

"But he did speak?" Steve asked astonished.

"Ooh! Say my name," Tony piped up. "Do me; do me!"

Clint cradled him closer. "Not that easy," Natasha explained. "It was a dangerous explanation, and Peter had hard enough of a time getting it as loud as it was. Even though he was at a normal tone of voice."

"We can take it slow," Sam said. "No pressure, Peter."

Talking took a lot out of Peter.

He tried, though. He really did.

After that, he could get a few words in a day. His voice was always quiet, but he could speak a little. It was enough progress.

Peter was waddling behind Natasha in the helicarrier. They walked right up to where Fury stood in the helicarrier. Agents were flying past left and right.

"Parker?" He asked in a monotone voice. Coulson grinned.

Natasha handed a briefcase to Coulson. "From the mission," she said with a wink. Peter didn't want to know what was in there. Well, maybe a little.

"Nice to see you again, Parker," Phil greeted. "You look like you're doing well."

Peter nodded. "I am."

Nearby, Fury choked. "Not the craziest thing I've seen," he commented. "Peter?"

"Fury," he greeted, voice small. "Hi." He gave a tiny wave. His voice broke at the end.

And, yeah, that was a new thing.

Things turn out that Peter is a snarky little bug.

Like, really snarky.

It's nice hearing him speak.

Sing? Not so much.

Sam was going to go fetch him for dinner. JARVIS told him he was up on the patio.

"Peter?"

He squeaked. "W-when?"

"Don't ever sing again," he begged. "Please."


End file.
